Stealth, Speed, Mastery
by TheFirstMrsHummel
Summary: One-shot Kurtofsky inspired by Chris Colfer's real life sai sword skillz.  Rated M for language and a smutty ending.


_**I've had this one-shot milling around in my noodle since I saw the clip of Chris Colfer twirling his sai swords on the BBC's Friday Night with Jonathan Ross (and later, on Conan O'Brien). If you haven't seen it, YouTube is your friend and you simply much check it out. Honestly, if that kid gets any more effing awesome, I think the universe might actually implode. XD**_

_**It gets kinda kinky at the end, even a little BSDM-ish. Time to turn back if that's not your thing, 'kay?**_

Dave Karofsky finished running the last of the 30 laps that Coach Bieste had punished him with for letting Hudson get sacked not once, not twice, but three freaking times in a single practice. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was finding it harder and harder to concentrate these days. He didn't like to think about the fact the occasional lack of focus had begun the first time he saw Kurt Hummel in a Cheerios uniform, and had gotten amazingly frequent since returning from temporary expulsion only to find that the little homo had transferred to another school. He found himself wondering at inopportune times (like right after the snap, for chrissakes!) what Kurt was doing; what he looked like in his Dalton uniform, and if he was holding hands or singing love songs with that faggoty Ken doll creep who tried to out him on the quad. Goddammit, things were supposed to be _easier_ without the little fairy skipping around school and rubbing his flaming gayness in Dave's face every day, but instead, they were a thousand times harder. Because the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about Hummel, even though he was miles away, meant two things that scared the living shit out of Dave. One, he was definitely gay; it wasn't just something he'd broken out with from proximity, like the fag version of poison ivy. And two, he had feelings for Hummel. Feelings that had nothing to do with wanting to beat him up, and everything to do with wanting to kiss him again. Preferably with tongue, and even more preferably with Hummel ready and willing this time. _Mmmmmmm…_

Shit! There he went again, drifting off in thoughts of Hummel's soft lips or tight ass. He smacked the side of his head sharply with his hand, wishing that he could physically pound the images out of his mind. But as he had learned from throwing Hummel into lockers repeatedly, disturbing shit in your brain was surprisingly immune to the effects of physical force. He sighed and looked up, realizing that he was alone on the field, and it had gotten dark at some point. _Fantastic_, he thought, _I never even noticed the rest of the team leave. _Jesus, he needed to get it together before he did something stupid, like cost the Titans the playoffs, or drive out to Dalton with a ginormous boombox and go all _Say Anything_ under Hummel's dorm window.

He went into the locker room to strip out of his uniform and shower. Standing under the hot water, he decided to jerk off to try and relieve some of his tension, seeing as he had the place to himself. As always, he promised he wouldn't moan Hummel's first name when he came. As always, he was unable to follow through on the promise. He made sure all the evidence was washed down the drain and shut the water off. As he did so, he heard a soft swishing noise from behind him and whirled around quickly. No one was there. _Great, now I'm hearing things. Fucking wonderful._

He made his way to his locker and changed quickly into his jeans and a brown button down shirt. He usually favored t-shirts and pullovers, but his mom had bought him the shirt for Christmas and bitched that he never wore it, so he'd thrown it on this morning. As he reached down to grab his book bag, he heard the noise again. He straightened up quickly, looking around, but one again there was nothing and no one to see. He started to feel a little creeped out, and decided to get the hell out of there.

He slammed his way out of the locker room doors and into the hallway. _Whoa_, he thought. The hallway looked…weird, for lack of a better word. It seemed a lot longer than Dave had ever remembered seeing it, and it was completely dark except for the emergency lights, which flickered ominously. It was dead quiet, empty and strangely foreboding. He half expected Freddy fucking Kreuger to come popping out of a classroom and start chasing him down the hall. He began walking quickly down the hall- _not running, I am so totally __**not**__ running_ - and was alarmed to note that no matter how many lockers and classrooms he passed, the end of the hall seemed to remain the same distance away. His breath was starting to come a little fast. _What the fuck is this?_ He stopped for a minute, trying to get his bearings, when he heard a different noise. It was the sound of metal sliding against metal, and he felt sweat break out on the back of his neck. _Oh shit, what the hell was that?_ He wanted to run, but his feet were like lead; he was almost literally rooted to the spot. He heard a faint padding noise, like someone was running in slippers, and a chill ran down his spine.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, something dark dropped down from the ceiling and landed directly in front of him. Dave shrieked in surprise and recoiled. It was a person, about Dave's height but much more slender. They were dressed entirely in black, slightly loose clothing, which included a hood that not only covered the top of their head, but came up over their mouth and nose as well. The only thing not covered was their hands, and pale green eyes fringed with long, thick lashes. It was impossible to tell if it was a guy or a girl, though he didn't see any obvious boobs. Dave blinked, open mouthed and sure that he must be hallucinating. _Jesus Christ, it's a fucking ninja. No way._ It would almost be cool if it wasn't so completely terrifying.

The ninja stood silently, staring straight at Dave with those eyes that seemed both beautiful and deadly. Without warning, their foot whipped out and struck him squarely in the midsection, sending him flying back against the lockers behind him. _Ouch, that really fucking hurts_, he thought, as he felt the back of his head hit the unyielding metal doors. The kick was unlike anything Dave had experienced before. He was used to getting slammed around on the field, but that was more of an all over, jarring sensation. The ninja's strike had been powerful, but concentrated and precise at the same time. It was somehow way scarier than a 350 lb linebacker charging him at full speed. Dave pressed himself back into the lockers, as if he could maybe disappear into them if he tried hard enough.

The ninja brought their hands behind their back, and Dave heard the sliding metal sound again. His mouth went completely dry as he watched the figure bring forth a pair of wickedly pointed, gleaming silver weapons, one in each hand. _It's those things Raphael used in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_, he though, searching his nearly frozen brain for their name. _Sai swords, I think?_ Whatever they were, they looked like they were perfectly capable of making a number of bloody, painful holes in Dave, and he started to shake. He licked his bone dry lips. "Look…whoever you are. I don't know what's going on here, but I think you might have the wrong guy." He tried to smile, but his trembling lips refused to cooperate.

The ninja stood silently, and ever so slowly shook his head. He raised the swords to the sides, first two fingers hooked around the base of the shorter prongs. He began to spin them, lighting fast, and the gleam of the sharp points in the dim lights had Dave's bladder loosening. He was glad he had taken a leak in the shower, because otherwise he was pretty sure he'd have pissed himself at that moment. _Oh shit, I am so fucked. _The ninja stopped spinning the sword in their left hand, but continued with the right, swinging their arm back and forth in a small horizontal figure eight, almost like a baton. They moved closer and closer to Dave, who cringed and covered his abdomen with his hands reflexively. Abruptly, they brought their arm forward and stilled the weapon instantly, the shaft pointing directly at the side of Dave's neck. They pressed the sharp tip into his skin, just enough to make a small depression. The tip wasn't like the blade of a knife, it was blunter than that, but he bet it was no less dangerous. It didn't hurt, but Dave closed his eyes tightly and whimpered at the feel of cold, pointy metal inches away from his carotid artery. "Please," he begged in a tremulous voice, "Don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want, just please don't kill me."

He opened his eyes to see the pitiless green eyes boring into his own, and figured he was as good as dead. He was in the presence of a stone cold killer, you only had to take one look at that cold, hard stare to know that. Dave swallowed; tears formed in his eyes and one fell from the corner of his left eye. He saw the ninja's gaze note the drop, and bring the tip of the sword in their left hand to his cheek. Dave felt cold metal brush his cheek as the ninja wiped the tear away with the point. It was an almost tender gesture, but seeing as how he now had a hazardously sharp weapon at his face as well as his neck, he hardly felt comforted.

Keeping the swords in place, the ninja leaned forward, pressing their body up against Dave's firmly. _Definitely a guy_, thought Dave, feeling a solid bulge bearing down on his own denim covered crotch. Unbelievably, Dave began to harden at the sensation, which the ninja would hardly fail to feel, seeing as he was wearing what basically amounted to pajama bottoms. Instead of pulling away though, the guy pressed harder, and Dave felt the bulge grow and become rigid. He never stopped staring, and the little bit of his face Dave could see held no clues as to if there was any expression on it. After a couple of minutes, during which Dave used all of his control to not start humping away at the ninja's erection (apparently, fear was one hell of an aphrodisiac, who'd have thunk it?), the guy pulled his face and chest back a bit, though their pelvises remained tightly connected. This time the ninja brought the tip of the sword to his own face, spearing the corner of his hood with it. He flicked the sword precisely, and the hood fell away, revealing the ninja's identity.

Kurt Hummel's face was devoid of any emotion, almost as blank as it had been with the hood on. Dave was stupefied_. Kurt is a ninja? When the fuck did THAT happen? _Kurt brought the tip of the sword back to Dave, and flipped it so it pointed down. He slid the shaft into the open collar of Dave's shirt, and Dave felt the cold metal descend until it was right behind the first button. With a quick and decisive movement, Kurt pulled the shaft forward and popped the button off. Dave moaned, the noise loud in the dark, quiet hallway. Kurt continued on, face still completely expressionless, until all the buttons were gone and Dave's shirt hung open. He began to stroke Dave's chest with the sword, and Dave cried out when the metal prodded and teased at his already hard nipples. The sword at his neck hadn't moved once, and he knew it would take little effort for someone as obviously skilled as Kurt to plunge it or the sword at his chest forward, killing him instantly. There was something about the boy he had tormented being in merciless control of him that aroused him beyond anything he'd ever felt. Jesus, he was so messed up. Not only was he a closet case with anger management issues, he also apparently had some strong masochistic tendencies.

Kurt pulled away from Dave, only the sword at his neck keeping them connected. Dave mewled at the loss of Kurt's taut body against his. Kurt took his left hand, still holding the sword, and brought it to the top of Dave's head. Manipulating the weapon so it lay flat, he began to push down strongly, forcing Dave to kneel in front of him. The sword at his neck followed. When Dave was in place, Kurt removed the hand from his head and held it out to the side slightly, flipping it so that it was one again at the ready. Dave was perfectly eye level with Kurt's crotch, and despite the slender boy's eerie calm, it was easy to see that his erection hadn't abated in the least. He looked up a Kurt questioningly, and Kurt nodded once, still unsmiling.

Dave brought his hands to the waist of Kurt's black pants and felt a drawstring. He untied it and pulled the pants down, Kurt's hardness bouncing up upon release and hitting Dave's chin. Dave raised a shaky hand to it and brought his head forward, opening his mouth and swallowing as much of Kurt's cock as he could. He felt the head brush the back of his throat and choked slightly; Kurt was not only a talented countertenor and skilled ninja, but apparently he was well hung too. _Is there anything he can't do?_ Dave wondered. He worked his mouth and tongue back and forth, feeling the weight of Kurt's formidable stare and the pressure of the sword at his neck. Dave was completely turned on at being so utterly submissive at Kurt's feet, he was about to come even though no one had touched his own dick. He felt the burn start in his belly, and his balls tightened almost painfully before he unloaded helplessly inside his jeans, moaning around Kurt's cock. He opened his eyes, almost scared to meet Kurt's gaze. Would he be angry that Dave couldn't hold off on his orgasm? Would he finally feel the cruel metal pierce his flesh? He raised his eyes timidly, meeting that callous green gaze for a moment before-

Dave jackknifed up to a sitting position with a harsh gasp, heart racing. He was in his own bed, and the sheets were sticking to him in a familiar, disgusting way. He put his head in his hands, feeling how sweaty his forehead had become. Yet another wet dream about Kurt; that made the third time this week. His mom had been so appreciative when Dave had started doing his own laundry, never guessing that it was because he was mortified at the idea of her seeing his stained bedding. Since Kurt had transferred to Dalton, dreaming of him had become a nightly event, and about half the time he woke to sticky sheets and abject shame. He flopped back onto his pillow, wondering how the hell he had managed to fuck everything up so badly, and if there was any hope of fixing any of it.

_**Please review and let me know what you thought of this strange, kinky little one-shot. I originally intended for it to be fluffier, but then Dave got all depraved, and Kurt just refused to smile, so it got a little darker than I expected.**_


End file.
